The Mermaids Madness by Jim C. Hines Page B

face where they had escaped from the long braid draped over his shoulder. As always, he dressed in such a way as to make Danielle suspect the fairy folk perceived color very differently from humans. A green shirt clashed with his purple jacket, and Danielle couldn’t even imagine where he had found trousers in that particular shade of rusty orange.
    A white falcon named Karina perched on his shoulder. Splotches of red mottled the bird’s chest. Trittibar scratched the falcon’s neck, and she responded by raising her crest like a tiny crown.
    “Karina confirms it, Your Majesty,” Trittibar was saying. “The storms are strongest along the shore but die quickly the farther you travel from the palace.”
    “Demons fly in those clouds,” said the admiral. Hays, Danielle remembered. She had seen him about the palace on occasion. Hays licked his lips, eyes searching the skies. “I’ve spent forty years of my life on these waters, and I’ve never seen a storm arise so suddenly. The Reginald was barely out of the harbor when the winds hit. Cracked her mainmast before she could take in her sheets.”
    “We were less than an hour out of Lorindar when we saw the storm building,” said the sailor. “We stopped to lash supports to the mainmast. That’s when the undine attacked.”
    “You were on the Branwyn, ” Danielle guessed.
    “James Harland. I’ve been a waister on the Branwyn for two years.”
    Armand raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t ask how Danielle had known. He beckoned her closer, putting an arm around her shoulders when she joined him. The gesture seemed to be as much for his comfort as hers.
    “ ‘Waister?’ ” Danielle whispered.
    Armand bent his head close. “He worked the deck at the foremast.”
    “Were there other survivors?” Danielle asked.
    “I don’t think so, Your Highness,” said James. “I was working to bring in the bowsprit when the wind tossed me overboard. The merfolk dragged me away almost before I hit the surface. They left me on the outer seawall. They promised safe passage if we paid proper tribute to their queen.”
    “Lirea asked for gold,” Armand said. “The undine have never used money before. They barter with other tribes for what they need.”
    “The undine aren’t known for this kind of magic.” The king waved a hand toward the clouds. “Could Lirea have allied herself with the fairy folk? The gold could be payment for their aid.”
    “Anything is possible, Your Majesty,” said Trittibar, but he sounded dubious. “But I believe I would recognize the magic of my people. It would be a serious violation of Malindar’s Treaty, and few of our kind would risk the wrath of our lord and lady. No, this is something else.”
    “You believe it’s coincidence that this storm assaults the palace the day we bring my mother home?” Armand asked. He spun away, moving so fast the water sprayed from his arms.
    A page hurried onto the wall, his jacket held over his head against the rain. The king waved for him to approach.
    “We’ve received a note from Lord Montgomery. He sends his sympathies to you and the prince and asks how you intend to protect Eastpointe from the undine. He requests twelve warships be diverted to escort trade ships to and from his docks.” The page bowed and took a step back.
    King Theodore simply shook his head. “Word spreads quickly. By this time tomorrow, I imagine half the lords will be demanding similar protection.” He dismissed the page, then rested his arms on the crenellations of the outer wall. “Who do you think Montgomery’s spies are, to alert him of the undine threat so quickly?”
    “Does it matter?” Armand asked. “He’s within his rights to ask the crown for help.”
    “He is,” Theodore acknowledged. “Just as I’m within my rights to call on Montgomery’s resources in a time of war. If he’s not careful, I’ll send him and his ships out to sea to hunt Lirea.”
    “Until this storm eases, what help does he expect